


It Wasn't That Hard Just to Figure You Out

by lucky7girl



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:46:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucky7girl/pseuds/lucky7girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I love the song Figured You Out by Nickelback and I have been meaning to do a Frerard based on it for the longest time. And finally this happened. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Wasn't That Hard Just to Figure You Out

The Party

He's coming over again tonight. I don't even know why I'll open the door for him. He's such a drunken slut. 

I hear the familiar rapping on the door and I take my time walking over there. It's my party and I know he'll embarrass me. Like he always does when he gets loaded. He's probably drunk as fuck already. I straighten my tie and nod to a couple giggling to each other as I walk past my couch enroute to the front door. I let him knock one more time before I open it, just to be an asshole. 

He looks like hell, as usual. And by hell, I mean sexy as hell. His unwashed hair is uncombed. He smells like cigarettes and vodka. His dress shirt is untucked and the knees of his trousers are dirty. He'd obviously fallen on his way over to my house. 

What a whore. I grab him by the shoulder and drag him into my living room and past the giggling couple, now staring, puzzled, in our direction. He follows me silently down the hallway and into my bedroom. I shut the door behind us and tell him to get on his knees. I like him like that. I begin to unbutton my pants as I look into his hazel eyes. They are so beautiful. He is beautiful. For a slut. He watches as I let my pants drop to the floor. He takes my dick in his hands and starts to stroke. 

"Please?" he asks, looking up at me. 

I nod and he takes me into his mouth and starts to suck so hard I thought I would lose it right there. I tip my head back and moan his name as he moves his tongue over my tip and into the slit on top. Oh God he is so good at this. Within minutes I am coming in his mouth and he swallows every last bit of it. 

I finish and bend down to pick up my pants, pulling them up and fastening them with my belt. We exchange no words as he stands up and looks into my eyes again. He isn't getting any tonight. I'm just not in the mood. He turns and leaves without a sound. Good riddance. He can let himself out. I wait five minutes to make sure he is gone and I rejoin my party, mingling with my guests and making no mention of my visitor. 

Friday Night

It's Friday night and I'm picking him up to go to The Hive. He's waiting for me outside his apartment building, freshly dressed in a three piece suit. He's showered. His hair is clean and he has it straightened and combed back, just a strand blows past his eyes; the wind teasing it relentlessly. His lips are red and shining and he has a bit of eyeliner on. God he looks so classy. Nothing like the drunken piece of shit that showed up to my party the other night. I pull my car up to the curb and smile at him as he reaches for the door handle. He smiles back. We make small talk about the weather on the way to the gallery. 

The Hive

We arrive at the show, a little late for the performance so we are forced to stand in the back. Someone near the front sees him and mouths his name. 

Gerard. 

He nods in their direction and takes my hand and leads me to the position near his friend. We spend the remainder of the show very near the stage. I see him slip something into the pocket of his friend and his friend slips something into his hand. He doesn't think I see but I do. After the dancers exit the stage, he leads me into the back. He knows the owner. He invites us to the VIP party after the show where the champagne is flowing freely and the hor dourves are delightful. We stay for awhile, but I grow bored. I whisper in his ear and he takes my hand and we leave The Hive. I take him back to his apartment and follow him in. He excuses himself to the bathroom. I know what he's doing. I hear him sniff and he comes out of the bathroom, his eyes watery. I smile and wipe the tiniest bit of white powder from the bottom of his nose. 

"Wanna fuck?" I ask him. I know his answer. I grab the back of his head and pull him in for a kiss. I waste no time shoving my tongue down his throat and he moans into my mouth. I remove his jacket and start to unbutton his dress shirt. I peel the shirt away to reveal his bare chest. I run my finger from his right nipple to a freckle near his belly button and he shivers. He takes me by surprise and unbuttons my pants and reaches in, taking my dick into his hand and stroking me until I'm breathing hard. I can never resist him. Soon I'm spilling into his hand and onto his clean black trousers, moaning in ecstasy as he continues to stroke me through my pleasure. I finish and pull up my pants and thank him. Then I show myself to the door. 

Dinner. 

We have dinner reservations at eight. He's late. Rude fucker. He could have at least called me. We order our dinner and eat in silence. The check comes and the waiter sets it in front of him. I wonder for the hundredth time of its because he is taller than me. He reaches down and slides the paper in front of me. Just once I wish that fuckin' coke head would pay for dinner but I never say anything. It wouldn't do any good. 

"Why were you late tonight?" I ask him. 

"Overslept," is his reply. 

"Overslept?" at 8 o'clock in the evening? "Who the fuck does that?" I demand. 

"Frank, you know I work nights," he says calmly. 

Yeah, I know that. I just like to see if I can get a rise out of him. 

"Lazy cocksucker," I provoke him more. 

"That's it!" he slams his hand down on the table. I think he's horny. "I'm sick and tired of you treating me like a no good piece of shit!"

"Well you are a no good piece of shit," I say calmly. This is so much fun. I love watching him make a scene. People start to look over in our direction. "I've had it with you, Frank. This is over. I'm through!" he yells. Everyone is staring now. 

He starts to leave and I holler after him, "Come by tonight and I'll fuck you."

He'll be there. 

Passed Out on the Deck

I'm sitting in the chaise lounge on my deck when he comes. He's shitfaced and God only knows how much coke he's done. He looks terrible, and by terrible, I mean terribly sexy. 

I unbutton my pants and shimmy out of them and he comes over and eases out of his own pants and sits on top of me. He kisses me hard and I'm ready for him. I produce a bottle of lube and squeeze some on my dick. He's been fucked so many times, I don't need to finger him first. Not by me. I only fuck him on special occasions. He settles himself on top of me and begins to move. For a slut, he's pretty tight. I move my arms to his waist and guide him just the way I want him. He submits to me as usual. He's enjoying it to. I take his dick in my hand and stroke him in rhythm to my thrusts. It doesn't take him long. For a slut, he doesn't control himself very well. He cries out and comes into my hand and he tightens around me, sending me into an intense orgasm, as I thrust up hard into him. He feels so good. He eases himself off me and trips over his shoes and falls face first on my deck. I leave him there, passed out and I go to bed. 

The Next Morning 

He's still there on the deck. I wake him up and tell him to get the fuck out of here, I need to go to work. He pulls himself together and gets off the floor. His knees are dirty again. I swear. He's worse than a kid. Fuckin' whore. I remind him we are going to a movie tonight so the son of a bitch better not be late since he didn't have to work last night. He probably still will be, sleeping off his drunk. 

The Movie

I let him pick the movie this time because I'm a nice guy. I'm sure I'll hate it. I certainly hated the theatre he chose. Probably in the part of town he likes to whore around in. He waves to some guys over on the other side of the theatre. They look like assholes. I take his hand just to let them know he is mine. The movie sucks. It's a remake of A Nightmare on Elm Street. Seriously. Who fucks with such a classic. That's two hours of my life I'll never get back. His friends head over in our direction and I just want to get the fuck out of here. 

"Hi, Gerard." one of them says. 

"Hi, Ray," he replies. "This is Frank, my..." he trails off and looks at me with a puzzled expression. What are we, exactly? 

"I'll tell you what I am," I say, "I am outta here." 

I don't want to meet his friends. The blonde one looks like an emo dipshit with that stupid lip ring and what the fuck was up with that Ray dude's hair? Doesn't he own a comb? And the skinny one with glasses, who gave me a strange look. He sort of looked like Gerard. Maybe that's the brother he's mentioned. I don't remember his name, anyway. Fuck them, anyway. 

"I need to use the bathroom," he said, and hurried up the ramp and out the double doors. I knew what he was probably going to do in there. Fuck him. I walk outside and get into my car. 

Gone For Good and This is It

My phone rings. He was supposed to be at my house at seven. Fucker probably overslept again. 

"Frank." he said into the receiver. 

"What," I asked impatiently. 

"I don't think we should see each other anymore."

What?!?

"What?" I asked him. 

"It's over. I'm gone," he said. 

"No," I said and dropped the phone without hitting end. I felt like I'd been ripped apart. I couldn't lose him. I just couldn't. I'd be nicer. 

"Gerard, I love you! Don't leave me, please!" I yelled to no one. 

An hour later, after I'd drained myself from all my tears, I heard a knock on my door. I hurried to answer it, hoping to God it was him. 

He looked a mess. I'd never been so glad to see him. He took me into his arms and held me close to him. I could hear his heart beating. 

"I love you too, Frank."


End file.
